


Petals

by Gondolin



Series: Into the garbage chute! [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Blanket Permission, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Multi, Shmi Skywalker Lives, Work Up For Adoption, non traditional hanahaki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:42:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22979317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gondolin/pseuds/Gondolin
Summary: "Have you heard about an illness called Hanahki, Master?"Obi-Wan looks befuddled by the question. "It died out centuries ago.""Apparently not. Did you know it's hereditary?"[the twist is that the person with the disease won’t develop symptoms if the other person returns their love, not matter if they are aware of it or not]
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker, teeny tiny Han/Luke and Han/Leia epilogue
Series: Into the garbage chute! [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1264019
Comments: 8
Kudos: 151





	Petals

**Author's Note:**

> Does the world need any more Hahnaki fics? Probably not, but this has been sitting in my WIP folder for two years now, because a couple of Hahnaki fics were the first things I read in this fandom and they inspired me. So here it is, with the slight twist that the person with the disease won’t develop symptoms if the other person returns their love, not matter if they are aware of it or not. It's a magic illness, I can change the rules!

Nightmares about his mother start suddenly one day, after years since he's last cried about missing her, hiding his face with shame in Obi-Wan's robe and receiving no comfort.

(If only he had been better trained already, he would have felt the waves of affection and distress coming from his Master. He would have felt the hand hovering just over his head, unsure.)

They are vivid and painful, like he's living her agony and he wakes up chocking.

When he gets beaten by a Padawan five years his junior in a sparring match, he decides that it's time to do something about it. He can't sleep, he can't focus. He's tried meditating, he really has, but the dreams won't go away. He's never been quite as good at precognition as his master, but he thinks that maybe this is some form of message, of sign, and he can't make himself not care. Is it not compassionate wanting to help?

So he enlists Padmé's help, getting her to request him as protection detail for a diplomatic mission, and they fly to Tatooine. Obi-Wan looks on disapprovingly as they leave, a deeper crease in his brow than Anakin has seen in a long time and all his mental shields resolutely up. Anaking grits his teeth and doesn't say anything, because of course Obi-Wan disapproves. It's all he seems to do lately. He probably thinks he and Padmé are eloping, or something equally outrageous.

When they get to Tatooine, the situation is very different from anything Anakin could have ever imagined.

His mother is not dying, for a starters. And she is _free_. A rush of deep, uncomplicated joy sweeps him off his feet at that. He barely takes any notice of the man who opened the door of the house - Padmé is being polite in the background and doing introductions, but he can’t stop staring at his mother, her hands in his, frozen to the spot and grinning like a fool.

“You’ve grown so much, Ani,” she says, tone sweet and full of wonder, “I’m so happy I got to see you again.”

He comes back to himself a little at how that sentiment is phrased. “Did something happen?” he asks, frowning.

Shmi smiles back, then nods towards the man. “He did. Cliegg. He’s my husband,” she adds, only the slightest hesitation before giving such big news.

He smiles at her like she hung both suns, and Anakin trusts him to be a good man, but he still wants to hear the full story. Because there _is_ a story there.

“Why don’t you both come in?” Shmi offers, “And we can talk.”

"Have you heard about an illness called Hanahki, Master?"

Obi-Wan looks befuddled by the question. "It died out centuries ago."

"Apparently not. Did you know it's hereditary?"

"Does anyone we know have it?"

Anakin smiles sharply. "I do."

Obi-Wan's expression shatters. Anakin has never witnessed such pain in him, not even when Obi-Wan's own life had been at risk. A wave of fear-pain-love-fear rolls off him – just for a moment, then he takes a deep, shuddering breath and shoves everything back down. Like nothing happened.

"How bad is it?" Obi-Wan tries to ask mildly, but Anakin is having none of that, not anymore.

"I'm fit as a fucking fiddle, my Master. I have not coughed up a single petal in my whole life."

"So how do you even know?”

"Because it’s hereditary. My mother had it and I got tested to be sure."

Obi-Wan shakes his head. "So that's where you've been. Oh, Anakin, I hope you didn't do anything foolish over there."

Anakin ignores the prickle of irritation at Obi-Wan's patronizing attitude and focuses on his goal. “She told me a very interesting story about how she fell in love. How she felt like she was suffocating for the longest time, until she decided to talk to the object of her affection. To let him get to know her and hope for the best. He fell in love too, and she stopped coughing up petals and leaves. They are married now.”

“But you... You said you’ve had no symptoms. So you are not,” Obi-Wan grits his teeth as if forcing the words out was physically painful, “Not in love.”

“Oh, but I am.”

Obi-Wan lowers his gaze. “Is it the Senator? She loves you back, doesn’t she?”

“You, Obi-Wan, are the smartest and yet stupidest person I know.”

“Anakin!” he exclaims, finally looking back up at Anakin with that how-dare-you expression of his that mostly just makes Anakin laughs by now.

“You really can’t think of anyone else I admire, respect and deeply care about?” he asks, looking at Obi-Wan so pointedly he imagines there are tiny arrows in the Force pointing at the man himself.

Obi-Wan still manages to look shocked. “Is this... why you’re telling me all this?” he stops to think for a moment, and his pupils dilate, his eyes going dark, but his expression stays resolutely neutral. He is clearly fighting for control. “But it can’t be. You have no symptoms, you said so yourself.”

“They would only appear if you didn’t love me back.”

The silence grows tense, and Anakin steps forward. “Obi-Wan, please.”

The man shakes his head with a resigned expression. “There must be a mistake, Anakin. A wrong diagnosis. I... do not feel as you seem to think.”

"You see, if you were telling the truth, I would be dead by now. I have been in love with you for so long, and always thought I had no hope."

"I don't think-

"Unrequited love. Not forbidden love, or even unconfessed. It doesn't matter if it's never even acted on: if it is reciprocated, the Hanahki won't take hold. Do you see?"

“No, you aren’t, you can’t be! You must be confused about the strength of your feelings, then.”

“Tell me you don’t love me. Tell me and I will never mention this again. No lies, Obi-Wan, just tell me the truth.”

* * *

[many years later]

Luke spits out a petal one day. A week later, there’s enough of them for a full rose, but Luke grew up on a desert planet and nothing grows on Hoth either.

But then he nearly gets himself killed (he knows he’s sloppy, and careless, but it’s not like it _matters,_ is it?) and the petals stop coming.

It’s only much later that he talks about it to his sister (and it still feels weird saying it), and she tells him a nearly identical story. Her petals came late, but she recognised them. Corellian roses. Luke is surprised, to say the least.

“Are you in love with Han?”

She smiles at him, wry amusement in the line of her lips. “Aren’t you?”


End file.
